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On the street, drugs, AIDS, nine months, park party

I write different things on different days and sometimes rearrange things, so who knows what day something is really written on.
Walking along upper Market/Castro/Noe/Church…
David and Charles on Castro… all those people
  • Super pretty young woman zipping along on a Razor scooter – Wow!
  • Man alternately raving and begging.
  • The man who sells flowers two blocks from my apartment, Guy, walking up the sidewalk carrying a bouquet. “Are you doing a home delivery?” “No, I’m starting my second career, singing in the studio.”
  • Lovers walking, embracing (this is a town full of lovers).
  • Two men shouting at each other, “m-f this, m-f that, g-d m-f the other.” They weren’t upset or anything, just shouting at each other.
  • Old man wearing a black leather jacket walking an old dog. “There’s a couple of old dogs,” I said. We both laughed and the dog just stood there, glad for a rest, I’m sure.
  • Many of the people with babies carry them in a harness so the baby is facing forward, little legs kind of flopping along. Wouldn’t it be grand to be able to see the world like those babies!

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Harvey Milk shrine in the Castro.
He was assassinated in 1978. 
I already knew that drugs like enalapril, omeprazole, levaquin, and so on can do wonderful things (and also can be dangerous). But it really came home to me when about 20 years ago I started prescribing them and following people over time. The first serious illness I cured was pneumonia – in a woman who wasn’t responding to treatment through a public hospital. I gave her Biaxin XL 1 gm qd for 10 days and I forget what else and she got well. I went to her apartment on Gaston several times working on getting the dosing right. Always a few gangsters around. For the rest of our time at Agape the woman would come in every few months mostly just to kind of say hello.
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Yesterday evening, David, Charles, and I walked to the Castro for a farewell dinner at Eureka!, one of my favorite places. When we turned on to Castro, I realized that the sidewalks were covered in chalked names. It was World AIDS Day and the names were a memorial to the many, many thousands who died from this terrible disease. I was stunned. There were little buckets of chalk for anyone who wanted to add a name or idea. After I got home I decided to walk back to Castro and add Rueben’s name. Little known fact about Leslie: she helped take care of Rueben when he was sick.
Sidewalk memorials. Rueben.
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Today marked nine months since Leslie passed away. What a ride we had and what (a different kind of) a ride this grief and mourning have been. Looking back on this time – and really it’s been hard since last November when Leslie began having difficulties – I realize I’ve gone about as deep into grief as I can go (famous last words!) and I realize I’m afraid of more pain. God almighty, it’s been hard. The first 6 months I was I don’t know what I was. I was going, Leslie, oh my sweet Leslie. I was in awe of her everything. I was so sad for her, for us, our beautiful life together. I spent a lot of time being grateful, too. The next two months I was feeling sorry for myself. The last 3 weeks I’m not as sad.
It was a perfect day to get a Christmas tree. I can hardly believe I did it. It would have been easy to think never mind and not have a tree. I bet nobody would be surprised. But there it is.
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Hippie Hill drum circle on a Sunday afternoon.
Here comes the didgeridoo!
Saturday: Breakfast at Taco Joint with Ron. Home. Go to used stuff store looking for ceramic pie pans, thinking wouldn’t it be nice to give people pecan or apple pies in nice pans. On the way, I saw a farmers market and knew Don would be there, so stopped and hung out with Don and Tia for awhile. On to used things store but no pie pans. Got a tree. Patched a hole in the side of the house where a squirrel had chewed its way in (Thanks for telling me, Jay!). Went to Whole Foods and ran into someone I’ve known a long time and had a disturbing interaction with him. Got lights on tree. Started with decos and John came by and hung out for awhile while I put decos on. Dinner at Whole Foods. I’m sure I would never bring my own Cajun chicken grilled in John’s “Big Green Egg” and my own bread from Acme Bakery and get $.78 worth of lettuce to enjoy the sometimes convivial atmosphere of WF (saw Stephen from psytrance scene, so that was nice). The front of the house smells like a Christmas tree.

Atrium Obscurum park party. Sarah Spirals
doing the opening dance/flagging
Sunday: Park party in Fort Worth with Atrium Obscurum. Brought cookies (chocolate chip with extra chocolate and nuts). Helped with set-up. Spent the afternoon talking with people – a lot of nice people who I like a lot. Good music throughout. It was a beautiful day.

Days into days…

Days rolling into days, into nights, into days. 37 Bus to the Haight, hang out on the street for awhile, walk to Hippie Hill, nap in the sun…
Apple Pie!
After months of drought, it’s raining in San Francisco. Cold and rainy, so fine. The front door is open and it’s cold and the pumpkin pie just came out of the oven and yesterday it was a pecan pie and chocolate chip cookies – the apartment is smelling very good. Pecan pie to neighbors: ½ to Chuck and Stephanie and ½ to Sean and Emily and Leon; cookies to Tony on the third floor, to Chuck and Stephanie, to Lance and Spence, to David and Charles.
David came by yesterday evening late, on a walk with Jake. This is how it is, wonderful, having an apartment 3 blocks from David and Charles. I was thinking about their wedding rings – I gave them Leslie’s wedding ring and they had their rings made from that 18k gold layered into platinum from a goldsmith in the Castro. Perfect.

Better late than never: I started reading the Chronicles of Narnia a few days ago. I’m a few pages away from finishing the second book in the series, The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe. I surprised myself with tears when Father Christmas said… “’The time to use them is perhaps near at hand. Bear them well.’ With these words he handed Peter a shield and a sword…” And again tears at the end of the book… “But don’t go trying to use the same route twice. Indeed, don’t try to get there at all. It’ll happen when you’re not looking for it.”
David and Charles took me to Chez Panisse in Berkeley last Saturday. Chez Panisse is “ground zero” for California cuisine. Local, organic, sustainable – here is where these concepts first found voice. It’s one thing that happened out of the Free Speech Movement at UC Berkeley. Thank you again, 1960s.
Wait, what is this about free speech and food? The Free Speech Movement wasn’t really about saying “fuck” – it was about freedom, freedom from mindlessness, freedom from repression, from prejudice, from the gods of corporate, from being told what to eat, drink, smoke, feel, want, desire, dream…
Chocolate chip cookies (extra chocolate and nuts) and
Pecan pie with a layer of chocolate. Alright!
Baked an apple pie from New York Times recipe. Used tart apples, a little extra sugar and cinnamon. This is the second or third apple pie I’ve baked. I’m very happy with how it turned out – or at least how it looks.
All these pies are for Thanksgiving, which, thankfully, wasn’t a deeply emotional time for our family. On the other hand, Christmas was a very special time. So far, plans are David and Charles in Texas for Christmas Eve and part of Christmas day; John for Christmas dinner.
Guy and some of his flowers
This a photograph of Guy, the man who sells flowers at the corner of Noe and 15th. He’s been selling flowers here since the bad old days of AIDS out of control. He’s a story-teller, and he has some stories about people wasting away and dying, one after another, day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year. So many casualties…



A Day in the Life

Monday, 11/16/2015 (A post not about grief!)
View from the UCSF Fitness Center

Coffee in the early morning – fixed the night before, so ready to go from refrigerator – home-made café sua da. Then rustic sourdough with almond butter and an apple for breakfast – apple from the Courtney’s Market up the hill, on the corner at 14thand Castro.

Caught the N Judah train for a 10 minute ride to the fitness center in UCSF Parnassus campus https://www.ucsf.edu/. I spent 25 minutes on an elliptical machine watching the hawks soar over Golden Gate Park and Golden Gate Bridge in the distance and the University of San Francisco’s white rococo spires off to the right (not in photo above). And I did resistance things for almost 10 minutes. Two guys talking in the locker room: “The secret to a long life is to marry well.” This place is overrun with scientists, doctors, and the like. I’m thinking these two are probably geneticists. I’m thinking they’re right, too.

UCSF hallway – flashback to countless
halls just like this one over the years 

N Judah back the apartment. Shower. Look at news.
I AM NOT TERRORIZED
or terrified or anything along those lines. I am more determined, hardened by the awful carnage in Paris. Paris, Beirut, Mumbai, London, Madrid, Jerusalem, Bali, New York…
Walked to the 22 Fillmore outbound stop at Duboce and Church. Rode 22 to the Mission (16th at Valencia) where David’s SF office is. I got there early, so walked to 18th to Tartine Bakery (popular enough that there is no sign), but there was a long line, so moved on. I stopped in at Faye’s Video, a nice, hippie-ish coffee house/video rental place. The coffee smelled really good, maybe at a Blue Bottle level. We’ll just have to find out how good it is. At the corner of the next block, the city smells were well-scented with cannabis. Half a block from the police station – no problem.
In the Mission. I thought of Sisyphus
It brings me pleasure to think about and name – not to mention, ride – all these MUNI routes and street names.
David and I had a nice lunch at the Little Chihuahua on Valencia in the Mission, relaxed, passing the time – a huge blessing to have these lunches so often with my son. I told David about my realization that within this mourning a series of happy thoughts is followed by unhappy thoughts, like I’ll be thinking for awhile (hours or days) about Leslie and traveling or working together and be happy that it ever happened and then the sadness that it won’t happen again… The trick, I said, is somehow to not cycle into the sadness. He was somewhat amused – you mean be happy all the time? Hmmm, well, that would be a good trick, wouldn’t it. 
Took the 22 back to Church and Market, where a woman in a motorized wheelchair was having trouble getting on the bus because the ramp was blocked by a trash receptacle. The driver wouldn’t move the bus. So I got off to see if I could help her, but couldn’t get her and the WC onto the ramp – another guy joined in and we still couldn’t do it. I kept saying to the driver, “Just move forward a little and she’ll be able to get on,” but the driver still wouldn’t move the bus 3 feet either way to accommodate her. “To hell with it,” she says and motors off to another bus stop. I say to the driver, “You really were just fucking with her, weren’t you,” and I left as well. Ha, he is the proud recipient of my first phone-in complaint to a government agency in my life. Asshole.
La Boulange – happy days
Went home for a few minutes, then caught the N Judah to Cole Street, where I’m sitting, writing, in front of La Boulange. Cole and Carl, where Leslie and I passed many happy hours. I was thinking I would walk to the Haight, but on a whim, jumped back on the N to 9th and Irving (where there are four coffee shops in one block – it’s that kind of a block).
I stopped in at a women’s clothing store called Ambiance to hopefully find the young woman, who, a month ago, when I was at the corner with someone throwing up (chemotherapy) into the gutter, ran across the street to bring two bottles of water. And there she was – the same young woman. She said, “Yes, I remember that.” I said, “We all remember. It was the sweetest thing” (especially in San Francisco where one sees all sorts of body functions, parts, eliminations, etc.). 

Jug band at corner Castro and Market

I forgot that Arizmendi Bakery (my destination) is closed on Mondays, so back on N to Duboce and walk to the Castro. There is a traveling kids/hippie jug band playing at the corner of Castro and Market and a guy comes by and drops some cookies into the open guitar case. Lot of cannabis being smoked on this corner – jug band, dogs, packs, guitars, crystals strewn around. Rainbow Gathering people.
Walked back to my apartment where I ran into Sean, one of my neighbors, who says kind of out of nowhere, “Do you have any idea how lucky you are” (to be living on this street in these days). “Yes, I think about that a lot.” Walked to Whole Foods for dinner, where I shared a table with a wonderfully interactive baby and mother. Good times.
Back home, thinking that today I was in Duboce Triangle, the Mission, Upper Market, the Castro, Cole Valley, and Inner Sunset. Thinking how fortunate I am.
Copied this from a web site: Charles Baudelaire developed a derived meaning of flâneur—that of “a person who walks the city in order to experience it.” 

Duboce Park Cafe – two blocks from home

There was nothing in the world
That I ever wanted more
Than to feel you deep in my heart
There was nothing in the world
That I ever wanted more
Than to never feel the breaking apart
(Pictures of You)

All Saints ceremony, a picture of a picture of a thought, I’m functional

Country sourdough (Thom Leonard recipe)

The associate pastor at First Presbyterian sent a letter early last week inviting me to the All Saints Day service. She noted that the names of church members who had passed away in the past 12 months would be read. I went. Thank you, Wendy.

Let me stop to note that several years ago I stopped going to church (though I continued in weekly Bible study). And years before that, Leslie and I quit giving to the church because of a huge difference between us and the denomination. How did the church and clergy respond when Leslie passed away? They reached out – not unlike turning the other cheek.
Chemo

The service was an All-Saints service, oriented to people who have passed on and those who mourn, including hymns, prayer, and sermon (there was a lovely thought about the “great cloud of saints” – you know, like Leslie and all the others through time). The names of members who passed away in the past 12 months were read. People in the congregation could then call out names of others, so I called out Tom’s name – Tom, whose body I found a few weeks before Leslie passed away. And, we took communion (always, to me, the highest Christian ceremony I know of).

I don’t mean anything related to “high church” or high in the sense of high on a substance like alcohol or cannabis or whatever. I mean high as in exalted… numinous… elevated… unifying… beyond…
I don’t ordinarily associate the Presbyterian Church with high ceremony, but there it was, unmistakably so.
———————-
Welcome lights in front of our home
A thought

On the right is a photo of a picture of a thought – the person who gave the picture to me thought of giving it to me and then made the picture of that thought and gave it to me. That’s him at the bottom and me at the top. It’s on some book shelves in the front room.

———————-
From the rocking of the cradle
To the rolling of the hearse
The going up
Was worth the coming down
———————–
I’ve been baking, pruning roses, going places, hanging out, putting up welcome lights, being by doing (busy hands are happy hands), and doing better. Now, at eight months (yesterday), I’m not functioning at a high level, but I’m functioning. Ha! I’m a functional mourner.
———————–

Someone was saying that in some cultures they have shrines to people who have passed away, and that person thought it seems morbid or something like that. I showed her a photo of my shrine for/to Leslie (It’s for me, obviously.)

Shrine in front room (in left lower quadrant) 



More on grief, bereavement, war, bread, randomness

(Some of these photo are unrelated to the words. They’re just pictures I took.)
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Part of my problem is that I had it so good for so long.

Baked October 2015. Rustic sourdough
with pecans, currants, cinnamon (part of my therapeutic work)

——————
Let us be kind to one another, for most of us are fighting a hard battle. Ian MacLaren
——————
One of the things I taught in hospice training and courses on hospice and palliative care was that each of us goes through the processes of dying, grief, etc. in different ways, at different speeds, in different cycles – and different at different times for the same person. It’s yet another example of the truth of, “It varies.”
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Seven months into this bereavement I looked at some of what I’ve written in the past about grief. I haven’t looked before now because I thought it best to experience whatever/however it is, without being influenced by external things, such as my own and other people’s previous thoughts about grief.
1967, a beautiful little town in Vietnam
Overall, I seem to have done a good job writing. So far, I like most the grief and bereavement chapter in my first book (1995). How can I “like” what I’ve written about grief? Mainly I like it because it’s accurate and helpful, at least for me. There are a few things I would change in what I wrote, but overall, pretty good. Grief WORK includes the following “tasks of bereavement” – each and all to be worked through again and again and again and…
  • Telling the “death story” and recounting the story of the illness (It’s not that you want to…)
  • Expressing and accepting the sadness
  • Expressing and accepting guilt, anger, and other feelings perceived as negative
  • Reviewing the relationship with the deceased (the really good part for me, usually)
  • Exploring possibilities in life after the death
  • Understanding common processes and problems in grief
  • Being understood or accepted by others

Baby playing by Carroll Street, 1982
I like that in that chapter I wrote about the potential for grief to “precipitate great personal or spiritual growth.”
I see myself working slowly through all of these tasks, but I’m not seeing much in the way of “growth” LOL. It’s a hopeful thing to see that I’m somewhere along the road in each “task.”
I get to easier places of not so much sadness and I get a little strength and kind of take on the next thing. Like today, writing to Dr. Lichliter (first draft). This was the first time I wrote about that last night.
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Phana (age 3 or 4) and me, 1985 or 86
I was in New Mexico to see Jim and Elisabeth a few weeks ago. The day I left, Katy had us over for breakfast (Thank You!). As we left her home, she was talking about attending a ceremony in the next weeks. The last thing I remember her saying was something like “… figuring out what to do with the rest of my life.” Good question!
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I’ve baked bread twice in about the past week. The second time was mainly for gifts. Both times I baked rustic sourdough – plain, with cheese, and with pecans, currants, sugar, and cinnamon.
——————-
la rue sans joie, civilian bus blown up by VC mine
In the last post I wrote about war. A little bit more now – about places. I was at the DMZ (Deckhouse/Prairie), Dodge City (Thuy Bo), Con Thien (outside the wire, but I’m counting it), Gio Linh, Highway 1 (named by the French, the Street Without Joy), Khe Sanh, Lang Vei (How about that! I have several non-violent stories about being there.), Hue (before the bad time), Quang Tri (before the bad). I also spent a total of about four weeks in the rear at Danang and Phu Bai, also a few weeks at Dong Ha in the semi-rear.
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One thing I do is get out every day – usually twice/day. My main places to go are Central

Never too young to start smoking, I guess

Market and Whole Foods. Places with people around. More days than not I spend time with a friend or John (Thank You, Everybody!). Yesterday I went to WF twice – the first time was really good – I ran into someone I think highly of (hospice and mental health social worker from San Francisco). Also a friend from the festival scene, and there was a cute baby who gave me all kinds of smiles and a ~12 year old girl who had such a sweet smile I literally laughed out loud. The second time at WF was also good. I realized today that I could hang out in the café area inside or out and read. So I read for about an hour on the patio.

At Hill Fights, 1967 – wounded waiting for medevac
Look at how dirty their shirts are – that’s not just sweat

I thought going to church today would be a nice opportunity to connect. The sermon was on the Song of Ruth, which was one of the last things I said to Leslie – wherever you go, I will go… So I connected to the grief, my grief. It was a tough one. At least we didn’t also sing In the Garden or That Old Rugged Cross. I went to Open Ring and spent some time with Dan Foster, so that was wonderful
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Things happen, like the Song of Ruth sermon or when I finally started on income tax, couldn’t find everything, and called Social Security re how to get papers related to Leslie and was told to bring our marriage license to the SSA office. Oh. So I’ll be going through things like birth certificates, marriage license, photos, other things from a sweet past life… 

Leslie in Yoeun’s apartment on Carroll Street


Photo: Leslie in Yoeun’s apartment on Carroll Street. Leslie went places not many people went. People would wait on her, knowing that whatever it was, Leslie would fix it.

Love, grief, war, love

Barbara sent me a letter that began, “You will make it.” I printed a copy to carry in my billfold.
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David Kemp and Charles Binkley, married, September 2015


I see couples together, a man and woman, a man and a man, a woman and a woman, sometimes with a child, sometimes just a parent and child, and like a prayer, I think something like, “Cherish what you have, love her (or him) with all your heart, give it all you have.” This happens almost every day.

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I went today to the first meeting of a grief recovery group. The walking wounded. One man will mark one year tomorrow. “Clara,” he spoke her name softly. Another man just passed two months and I thought, “How can he do it?” Everyone else in the group has been in it longer, so I guess that’s how he’ll do it. It’s so hard. Until this, Vietnam was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. This is much harder.
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These things are written over time, so when I say something about “the past few days” I may be writing about days a week or two ago.
Hard times much of the past few days. The thing of writing down three good things each day fell by the wayside as I’ve cycled downward.
Phorn, David, CK. At Grace Cathedral,
David and Charles’ wedding

Sometimes patients would tell me their chief complaint was “desperation.” I didn’t really understand that, except that it seemed to occur in the context of depression and I always took it as a serious CC. Now I get it. Desperation. What to do? Where to turn?

Monday I went to the grief center at Wilshire Baptist Church. Had a draining 1.5 hour conversation with Laurie, the director. The next day I talked with Lillie, the woman who facilitates the group I will start in next Tuesday.
(Encourage, it’s a word I want to keep in mind.)
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While we were in San Francisco the last time, Jeff talked some about Vietnam. I started thinking about how much combat I was in. Really a lot. Definitions:
Battle = a sustained fight with a lot of people involved, lasting anywhere from hours to days.
Firefight or gunfight = a brief fight involving a few people, that may last a few minutes up to an hour.
1/26 = 1stBattalion, 26th Marine Regiment; likewise 1/9 is 1st Bn, 9th Marine Reg. and so on. A letter in front of these, e.g., C/1/26, designates C Company, 1st Bn…
With Elisabeth and Jim, on the trail, NM

Except for Marine nomenclature, these are my definitions (battle vs. firefight). In each of the following battles and gunfights I was actively shooting and being shot at.

Battles
Deckhouse/Prairie, a big one near the DMZ – battalions of NVA regulars, trenches, mortars, rockets, many firefights. On the last day I saw a tanker get his head blown off. He was wearing a commo helmet, and it was like seeing a radio explode. When the fighting was over, I got his .45. I remember when we got back to a firebase the tanks laagered up and we (the infantry) all just kind of fell down asleep in the center of the circle. In the morning I saw the entire 1st weapons squad asleep together – three men, spooned together under a poncho – a week before there had been 12-14 men in 1st squad. For the operation, 36 Marines were killed and 167 wounded (from several units). Deckhouse/Prairie lasted a week or two for my unit, C/1/26.
Sea and sky and land

Dodge City near Hill 55 when that corporal had his ass blown off – he sat up and looked down at what was left of his legs, groaned and died. Battle lasted about an hour.

Dodge City a few months later – 16 KIA, several helicopters shot down, bad action, Zamora killed. His friend went crazy, started screaming, and charged the enemy trench line, so everybody else did too. Lasted about a day.
The Hill Fights/the “First Battle of Khe Sanh” – this was the worst. At the DMZ. I was mostly with 1/9, “The Walking Dead” and also some with 3/3 or 2/3. 168 men killed over about a month. I was in this one at several different points, with some rest time back at the rear near Dong Ha, where the only problem was rockets. I think I can rightfully say this was at least two battles for me. Intense. Lasted weeks.
Firefights/gunfights
John and CK, in the Castro

My best guess is at least one every 4-5 days for about seven months and then in the last six months, maybe one or even less/week. But the Hill Fights were in the last months, so I don’t know how to count in those times. All told, I was in at least 50 firefights.

Sniper fire/mines
When we were near Dodge City (Thuy Bo) every bleeding day at least one person was hit by sniper fire or blown away by a bouncing betty or other mine. Every fucking day.

I’ve been shot at with hand-held automatic weapons, crew-served automatic weapons, mortars, RPGs, big rockets, artillery, and I don’t know what else. I’ve even been strafed by a gunship.
THAT’S A LOT OF ACTION! I don’t seem to be haunted by it, though. It comes up now and then, but not so bad. I don’t remember my dreams. Things might be different if I did. Haha, Jeff’s dreams are enough for me.
———————-
Phana and Jeff – we all love a pretty girl, don’t we.
Look at how he’s looking at her – just as if he was
looking at David.

I’ve been somewhat slouchish for a long time. Toward the last of the time when Leslie was sick, I realized I was becoming actually bent over. I worked to stand up straighter. At some point a few weeks ago I thought to myself, fuck it, bent over is what I am and I quit trying to stand straight. Now I’m working on straighter again.

———————-
David and Charles got married a few weeks ago. It was a huge celebration. I realized a few days before the ceremony that it was a transition for me, too – and not the easiest one of my life. Of course, these are days upon days of transitions for me… More on this later. Will post video when it comes out.
______________

A woman was telling me how Leslie helped her years ago and how thankful she was for it. Somewhere in the conversation, I said, “Yes, she helped hundreds of people. The woman said, “No. Thousands.”

A screw-up, getting it right, lost, good things, a knight and a girl, song across the river…

Last night I was thinking about how my parents always said I was undependable – couldn’t be trusted – and they were right, where they and their deals were concerned, like school and family things. I was a screw-up.
Angel at La Boulange October 2014

And I thought about how for the rest of my life I’ve been completely dependable – a go-to, get-it-right person – in the Marine Corps/in combat, in rock-climbing, in hippie culture, in my marriage, with my son, in hospice, in the barrio/with refugees, in taking care of patients as a nurse practitioner, in the community…

This was actually a huge revelation for me.
————
A month or so ago I had a conversation with a woman working at Trader Joe’s. It turned out that she had spent a year traveling in Asia, studying Buddhism – on a pilgrimage. Today I was in Trader Joe’s and chose her line. She said she remembered me and I told her I remember her – and in fact, have a small gift for her, but didn’t bring it. She said I would remember it when the time was right. I said, I dunno. She said to have faith in myself; and then told me that yesterday she felt lost and so wrote down some positives in her life (that’s one of her practices).

Street of Dreams, Hue 2005


The day before the above conversation I said to Phana, “Sometimes I feel lost… not in geography, but emotionally.” Yesterday I posted this in my blog: “(a few weeks ago) I was some sad the past few days. It began to lift as we drove on I30 today. I realize now that part of the problem was likely that for several days I had abandoned the practice of each evening writing down three good things that happened that day – because so much good is happening. Ha! So much good, so much sad.”
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So that was one good thing!

Goldy, David, Judo about 2005

Breakfast with Ron Cowart was good. He has been a significant source of support –
I read a good book.
Had a very nice dinner with Shirin yesterday evening – good time, good food.

Contact with David every day…
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The first time I understood about sexual abuse was at the Elisabeth Kubler-Ross Transitions workshop in 1978. A young woman talked about having been repeatedly molested by her mother’s boyfriend with her mother present… The woman was talking about this for the first time. She was filled with pain and shame and loathing. I was staggered. I had no idea. It’s not like I really understood, but I did get a clue.
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Welcome!

Monday
I was thinking this might be a difficult day. But it wasn’t all that hard. I kept thinking about why aren’t all the beautiful times Leslie and I had together enough. I don’t know. But I do know how infinitely grateful I am that I never held back telling Leslie how I feel – how I adored her, how much fun she was, how pretty she was, how I respect her, how I love her – all those kinds of things. Other good things that happened today:
Went to the gym for what I call a sedate workout.
David and Leslie, Hue, 2010

Did a complete clean of the kitchen, breakfast room, and back bathroom.

I asked my next-door neighbor for a recommendation for a place to tune a bike that’s been sitting in a shed for 2+ years. He said he’d do it – as a gesture of thanks for all the cookies I’ve given him.
I received a surprise package from Amazon. It was a CD (Shaina Noll, Songs for the Inner Child) from Elisabeth in New Mexico! 
I’m rereading Between Two Fires by Christopher Buehlman. The author sent it to me after he read something I wrote about the book – I posted the following on September 2, 2013:
A book about a knight and a girl
CK at DMZ, 1966

When I got to the end of the book, Between Two Fires, by Christopher Buehlman, I actually cried – not a common response from me. The book is about a knight and a girl during the plague years. Though there are many differences between us, I identified more strongly with the knight than any (literary or living) character I’ve encountered in many years. He had been stripped of his knighthood, excommunicated, and had lost his home and family. He joined a band of brigands and was wandering the countryside, stealing and killing. The bandits came upon a girl at a farm where everyone else was dead. Some of the bandits were getting ready to rape her, but the fallen knight killed them. He and the girl then set out on a quest, for what they didn’t know.

They journeyed through the plague-decimated countryside and towns guided by the girl’s visions. Along the way people helped them and hindered them and gradually, they encountered greater and greater evil. There were temptations and fear and pain and love and joy. In the end, there was a terrible battle, then peace; there was redemption.
It blew my mind the extent to which I identified with the knight, though I haven’t lost anything close to what he lost, nor done what he did. But I have been on noble quests; I have faced death squarely in battle and elsewhere; I’ve defended the defenseless, been face to face with evil, tried hard to do the right thing, had visions/followed visions. I have been redeemed.
Tuesday
Stung Sankae – Battambang

Over the past few years I’ve gotten into the habit of making coffee in the evening and putting it into the refrigerator and then in the morning, having coffee as I awaken. This morning I was playing Songs for the Inner Child (CD sent by Jim and Elisabeth) as I had my coffee. I was reminded of one evening in Battambang, looking over the Stung Sangkae  (a river running through the edge of town) and hearing a woman somewhere across the river singing in a beautiful voice into the mystery of the Cambodian night…

Gym, 30 minute workout.

Elisabeth in Santa Fe, 2015

Thinking back on Jim and Elisabeth’s visit to San Francisco. You can tell a lot about people when things don’t go exactly as planned, e.g., a long bus trip to a long walk to an underwhelming destination, followed by a long wait for the next bus. Fine, no prob. Alright! The three of us connected during those days – the connections were/are deep.

How could anyone ever tell you
You were anything less than beautiful
How could anyone ever tell you
You were less than whole
How could anyone fail to notice
That your loving is a miracle
How deeply you’re connected to my soul…

David, my beloved Son. What peace and love you’ve given to me. 

Chemo, happiness, travel…

This is totally not in chronological order and I don’t what happened when – and also, the photos are not necessarily linked to the text. Just another example of writing to remember (These days, how I treasure what I’ve written about travel in Asia with Leslie!).

David with Jake, CK, Phana – Ocean Beach, 2015

Last week I went with Phana and Kayleen to visit David and Charles. It was a great visit, full to the brim with activities – Golden Gate Park, Neiman’s, Castro, Four Seasons, Ocean Beach – all over the place. I backed out of some parts of the trip as I felt the focus should be on David, Phana, and Kayleen’s relationship.
We came back to Dallas on Monday, back to chemo on Tuesday, massage for Phana on Wednesday, chemo/pump out Thursday, dinner with Debora Thursday evening, rehab on Friday morning, and fly back to San Francisco on Friday. Yikes! In some ways it’s been a hard week for me – lots of sadness and longing. Yet good in many ways.
Some of the parts that were good were spending time with Phana and Kayleen (see below), spending time with Phana, seeing my brother John, finishing early with chemo on Tuesday (I was in kind of a dream-like state and then about 3:30 Phana said it’s done), the whole massage scene (see below), dinner with Debora, a rare dream, and heading back to San Francisco.

Kayleen, Ocean Beach, 2015

Massage – I had a dream about Jessica A. in which I was trying to ask her something, but couldn’t. I contacted her a few days later about who might give Phana a loving massage and she suggested our mutual friend, Kristina. I was so happy that I know someone I can ask about a loving massage AND who would understand what I meant by that term AND that Kristina’s name would come up. Kristina’s apartment was a lovely, high space – even a sacred space, so I was super-happy to be there – so grateful for the whole scene. By the “whole scene” I mean the connections within Atrium Obscurum and the good people who make it beautiful, and more immediately, what was happening that day.
Spending time with Phana was basically the same as always – good. Spending time with Kayleen was an opportunity to discover a rare mix of child and adult. At first, she manifests child, as in totally 17. Then over time, she reveals depth and maturity. She’s dealing with a lot and dealing with it gracefully.
—————-
Phana and I went to a government office to pick up an important document. It was a very busy office with easily a hundred employees and countless clients and in all that, the person who ended up helping, said that she knows who Phana is! And I was thinking that all of us (Phana, from Cambodia; the employee, from Vietnam; and me, a combat veteran of Vietnam) are all children of war, ending up together, momentarily, in that huge office.

Phana, Kayleen, David

This was after 7 phone calls to that office with hold times probably averaging about 5 minutes (so not bad in that respect) and 4 phone calls to other entities such as a Congressman, Phana got a call from the office: yes, they have her passport and she can come in Thursday to pick it up. And, “Do you know a Charles Kemp?” LOL. So they got some little pieces of my ass and a bigger piece of hers, which is profoundly dragging after this 2nd course of max chemo, but still a better choice to go in now vs. them mailing it. 
Onward Through the Fog!
———————-
Today, she’s in one of the big chairs in the chemotherapy infusion room and this man comes over, rolling his IV along, and among other things happening, looks at me and asks, “Do you love her?” I really did LOL and said, “I can’t believe you’re asking me that question.” And with clarity said, “Yes.” Pinned to the wall by an old man named George, with tears running down his cheeks. We talked about what kind of love – agape and filial I think. He also talked about how we’re all one. I thought at first maybe he was an angel – really. Now I think he was a man having a vision. 
———————-
I was at the corner of Duboce and Steiner in San Francisco when one of those long fire trucks with a driver in front and someone else steering the back of the truck. The person steering the rear was waving at children and when I waved, too, he waved at me. Good times in San Francisco! 
———————-
David at Golden Gate

I was some sad the past few days. It began to lift as Phana and I drove on I30 today. I realize now that part of the problem was likely that for several days I had abandoned the practice of each evening writing down three good things that happened that day – because so much good is happening. Ha! So much good, so much sad. Playing a little catch-up now. Good…

I know people who say, “Yes,” when I ask, “Do you know anyone who can give a good, loving massage?”
I’m looking so forward to being with David. Prodigiously forward to that!
I’m happy to be bringing Phana and Kayleen to see David. I’m glad to be with Phana and Kayleen.
It makes me happy that Nora is buying Leslie’s car – and sad, too.
It was a good thing to have dinner with John. He’s a good guy.
It is a good thing to think of Leslie – of how she was so many things (wife, mother, lover, get it done genius, beautiful woman, decent person, and more).
Bible study was good.
Kayleen and Phana – SF,  2015

Looking forward to seeing Kristina.

Glad to be returning to San Francisco.
Grateful for the Grateful Dead.
Grateful for sativa.
Go Cali!
Friday
For walking with David, Phana, and Kayleen and for having coffee with them.
For San Francisco.
For dinner at Italian place on 19th Street upstairs in the Castro.
For sitting here while Phana and Kayleen rest.
Good times at tastings at four Seasons and cake place in the Mission.
Beginning to get to know Kayleen.
Being on Haight Street.
Talking with Charles B.
Saturday
Being in SF.
Going to beach with David, Phana, Kayleen, and Jake.
Lunch with everyone at the Slanted Door.
Haight Street, 2015

Walk with Kayleen, talking with her.

My apartment in San Francisco.
———————-
There was some sourdough starter (levain) dated 2/2014 in the refrigerator. I started the reactivation process and within 4 days, had a fully active levain (doubles in size, forms many bubbles, and has a good sourdough fragrance in ~8 hours).
I then spread the active material on a tray in the dehydrator and dehydrated it at a low temp for about 10 hours yielding crispy, light pieces of levain.
Then I dissolved 5 gm of the dehydrated levain in warm water and started the reactivation process again. Within three days I had a fully active levain! Then I replicated the process to be sure it would work. It did.
——————–
Sourdough, Arizmendi Bakery

I ran into someone I knew today. She was telling me about her son working in psychiatry with veterans and how the smaller women working in that setting were glad of this woman’s son – they feel protected because of his size. I didn’t have a good reaction to what she was saying, but didn’t understand why. I didn’t realize until just a few minutes ago that what this well-credentialed and uber-progressive person was saying about veterans with PTSD was that we’re dangerous, not to be trusted – haha (she was saying it with humor – it was amusing), they like having some muscle with them around the veterans. Hard to know what to say. I didn’t grasp it at the time, so went off on alternatives to the ineffective way PTSD is treated at the VA. But I get it now. I wonder how many shitty, racist or whatever things I’ve said and never even noticed…

———————
To Phana: You asked if I felt tired after spending the day with you getting chemotherapy. I said something like “a little” – but later I began to understand. I wrote,
What I really feel after here is not tired, but… something. I’m not sure what. Except that I’ve been somewhere of import with someone of great import. I don’t feel at all glad in any way, but I would rather be here, right here, right now – than anywhere else I can think of: The Wind Rivers, San Francisco, anywhere (except, of course, with Leslie).
——————

Our hotel was on this alley in Saigon, 2013

In the hall outside of the Chemotherapy Infusion Area I heard a man say, “I have a tough situation.” 
———————-
The last time I played golf was about a month after I returned from the war in 1967. It had been several years, so I wasn’t playing well until I reached a hard par 4 hole going back toward the clubhouse. I hit a perfect tee shot – long and right up the middle. I tossed my driver over by my other clubs and walked off the course. It was a good set of clubs, but I just left them there. That was it for me.
—————
Now, several days later, sitting with Phana in an office in outpatient oncology, going over Advance Directives and Medical Power of Attorney, talking about how she is likely to pass, serious things.
———————
Things that help with happiness (from Greater Good in Action Center at UC Berkeley – http://ggia.berkeley.edu/ )
Three good things practice (every night) or gratitude journal
Mental subtraction of positive events
Savoring walk once a week vs. giving something up
Thank yous in word and deed; gratitude letter
Positives
Thursday
New Mexico, July 2015

BP close to normal.

John calls to say, when I’m having a late day, let him know and he’ll fix dinner.
Went to dermatologist who took such good care of Leslie. She was extra sweet and used the word, “adore.”
Messaged with friend I haven’t seen in about 20 years.
Friday
Ran into friend who is police officer. He called about 30 minutes later to say, “You’re one of my heroes.”
Flying to Albuquerque from DFW. Lucked into right terminal and close to right gate.
Parked free with Purple Heart license plates.
Read a good article about Robert Frank (photographer of The Americans)
I wrote this: I’m hopeful! I don’t know what for. It just seems like there is some future out there for me, some potential. I’m fearful. I fear further disconnection.

And there was the whole amazing scene with Jim and Elisabeth in New Mexico!

Liberation Day, San Francisco Pride 2015, the 1960s fully realized

I started writing this on June 26, 2015 – LOVE WINS DAY! Photos are from San Francisco Pride. What a weekend!!!

Friday on Castro, after Supreme Court announcement
Shut that street DOWN!

Last week was one of the great weeks of my life, even within the grief. Things happened that I never thought would happen.
In classes I taught over the years there would be discussions of “socialized medicine” as a concept, but not as something anyone thought would happen in the U.S. Nobody I ever knew gave a rat’s ass about “socialized” – we just wanted everyone to have access to decent healthcare. And some of us dedicated our lives to providing as much healthcare as we could to as many underserved people as possible, but it was a long, uphill effort. Now, after more than 50 attempts by conservative lawmakers to destroy the Affordable Care Act (“Obamacare”), it’s a reality.

Keeping the peace

Early Friday morning (June 26, 2015 – mark that date!) I got a text from my son: “Marriage Equality is a reality!” Here is what the Court said:
“No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family. In forming a marital union, two people become something greater than once they were. As some of the petitioners in these cases demonstrate, marriage embodies a love that may endure even past death. It would misunderstand these men and women to say they disrespect the idea of marriage. Their plea is that they do respect it, respect it so deeply that they seek to find its fulfillment for themselves. Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization’s oldest institutions. They ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law. The Constitution grants them that right.”
Love wins! And Gay Liberation rolls on like a mighty river.

Delores Park – the Dyke March

AND, I had the great good fortune to be in San Francisco on Pride weekend! Beautiful – as I type at this moment there are rainbows on my keyboard (from crystal hanging in the window). I danced with more than a million people! Literally!
FREEDOM!
Though not as personally important to me as the previous…
Then there was SC decision about fair housing – disparate impact, i.e., if housing policies result in discrimination, even if discrimination is unintended, it’s discrimination (depend on me for your legal information).
The Supreme Court also stopped Texas’ war on women by blocking the state’s laws blocking access to abortion clinics (depend on me for clarity in writing).
The Supreme Court threw a monkey wrench into the awful gerrymandering that is a crippling part of politics as usual in the U.S.

Oil wrestling in Delores Park at the Dyke March

It’s as if this week is a capstone to what started in the 1960s. Though much is undone or needs more work, still, look at what we did!
  • Equality in Marriage comes 51 years after the Civil Rights Act of 1964.
  • We stopped the Vietnam War (or as the Vietnamese call it, the American War).
  • We brought the consciousness revolution to the world and despite millions of incarcerations and trillions of dollars spent to stop it and lies without end, it’s alive and very well.
    Cops, keeping the peace

  • WE brought dying and death out of the closet. WE made hospice a reality.
  • Sexual revolution? We’ll take the credit for that, too (with all its side effects).
  • Environmental awareness? That was seriously fringe in the 60s and into the 70s. We are a bunch of unrepentant tree-huggers (Talk about a lot more work needed, though!).
  • And then there’s rock & roll! From the moon-June-spoon pap peddled by record companies to Bob Dylan singing, “Equality,” I spoke the word as if a wedding vow.
  • Free speech – this is a family-oriented journal so I won’t include the photo of me sitting on the steps of Sproul Hall at UC Berkeley (where the Free Speech movement was born), shooting the finger to whomever (think Ted Cruz, Jeb Hensarling, Franklin Graham, all those people).

And much, much more.

At the main stage – what a party!
(Representing Atrium Obscurum)


Equality, I spoke the word as if a wedding vow.

Onward

I try to limit my visits for a pecan roll and
coffee to twice/week
I started writing this on the day marking four months since my beautiful Leslie passed away. Oh, honey, I miss you, I am so sorry. Thank you for our life together.
Last night Charles B took a photo of David and me. Looking at the photo it was the first time I realized that my son is now bigger than I am. Life goes on.
I was thinking yesterday how much I miss lying in bed with you, holding hands or touching one another, sometimes talking, sometimes not. In love.
10/26/2012. We were both sick (GI – nevermind the details) and Leslie was much sicker than I. After a few days we were able to get out of bed to somewhere other than the bathroom… after we could move around there were many hours that we still lay in bed together, one or the other dozing, awake, not talking, holding hands, and even though neither of us felt well, it was a sweet time, together.
The Redwood Lily in Arcata 
Sometimes at night, when you’re asleep I whisper things to you, like, “Leslie, I adore you… My beautiful Leslie… Forever and ever… I love you…” Adore – a perfect word for all of this. Subsonic love-making.
These are the days.
The 6/21/15 NYT Book Review had a review of The Odd Woman and the City (a memoir) by Vivian Gornick. It was as if the reviewer was describing me and my walks and bus/train rides through San Francisco. Samuel Johnson wrote in the 1740s, “When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life.” One can substitute San Francisco for London, of course. Sometimes I’m part of what I see, but mostly I just enjoy and appreciate it. It helps. I got the book. 
The day before I read the review, I sent this to my friend, Joy Blacklagoon: I was thinking today that one of the things I do – that makes me happy – is just walking around or sitting or whatever and just digging people. Babies, especially. I was on the train today and there were two people sitting there, one with her head on the other’s shoulder and it was really sweet and I was so happy to be there next to them. Haha! They had no idea what I was thinking. I hope you have a day full of love.
My little cubby in the Redwood Lily
Here is poignancy for you: My front window overlooks the sidewalk. There are trees up and down the street and there is a planter around the one closest to me and right now there is a homeless transgender person sitting on the planter, carefully putting on makeup, nothing spectacular, I think she just wants to look good, her little dog curled up beside her on a coat or something.

Psytrance party in the woods, 7/2015
put on by Follow Your Bliss

I think it would be edifying, interesting, humbling, all kinds of things if everyone would exchange life histories with one another, something like each person taking 30 minutes or however long to say, here is my history, struggles, good things, things going on now, dreams, and so on. Not only would we learn about one another, but we might also learn about ourselves as we tell and retell our story.

Someone said today that I’m really lucky. I know it’s true.